


Mementos of Ivory

by MeowZee



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Bonding over music, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, general school shenanigans with humour and angst tossed in, shuichi accidentally starts a death metal band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeowZee/pseuds/MeowZee
Summary: Shuichi finds a keyboard in the warehouse, and decides to take it with him to Kaede's lab.





	Mementos of Ivory

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an ambitious piece. I was in the middle of Kaede's FTEs when the muse hit me like a TRUCK. I literally spent all Saturday writing, like a complete fool. This is my first posted fic with the V3 characters, so we'll see how it goes! 
> 
> If you're going to look up any of the song titles, I would suggest Nuit d'étoiles. The English lyrics and composer are a fun Easter egg. 
> 
> Read, review, and enjoy!

_**Les papillons** _

At first, Shuichi went to return the parasol and other poolside supplies, after Tenko was done with her celebrity treatment. It was amidst the often-bizarre things provided by the warehouse that he found it.

 _It_ consisted of a rectangular box, made of glossy cardboard. There was a photo of a keyboard on the front. The brand name was stamped above it in flawless cursive. A black cord- the charger- coiled against one edge like a dozing snake. Right away, Shuichi knew that he wanted it, wanted to do something with it. Shuichi did not even know what that _something_ was. Nevertheless, he shoved it back on the shelf. With a strange sort of protectiveness, he made sure the instant house plants and a hefty book about hardtack recipes blocked it from view. Just in case someone else happened upon it. Shuichi hadn’t spotted any doubles, unlike most things available.

Once the deck had reverted to its original state (earning him a few monocoins in the process) he went back for the keyboard. There was a set of bullet points on the box, coolly listing the benefits of the keyboard. The top one read, “Made of durable yet lightweight materials.” Shuichi strongly disagreed with the “lightweight” part. It was almost the span of his arms, and the freshly-printed sheen of the box made it slippery. By the time Shuichi reached the hall, he was only half-carrying it. One would think in a warehouse there would be a big enough dolly, or anything with wheels, really, that was useable. Dragging wasn’t too bad, but he could feel the forerunner of aches, starting at the base of his spine.

Shuichi told himself the pain was cathartic, that he wouldn’t feel any better if he gave up and left the keyboard sitting in the middle of the hall. But that was before he encountered stairs. Each jarring bump made the box more liable to pull itself from his grasp. Then gravity would exert its fatal rule, just like-

Shuichi grimaced, looking away from the stairwell, from the distance which he had already come. It was no use remembering those things, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t-

“Shuichi, what are you doing?”

Where a tugging feeling had pulled at his arms before, there was sudden weightlessness. He panicked for a moment, thinking that in his careless reminiscence, the keyboard had escaped from his grasp. With the sudden lack of resistance, Shuichi fell back, landing hard against the stairs.

“G-Gonta?”

Rather than a white knight in shining armour, it was a gentleman in shining amour. Not that it made any difference. Torn between embarrassment and relief, Shuichi could only stare at Gonta with what must have been a mortified expression.

“You planning something with this?” Gonta asked, face stern. “It very heavy for you."

“No- ah- yes-” he said, flushing.

“Gentleman shouldn’t lie.”

He probably did appear suspicious, lugging a box which shouldn’t have been heavy. The others might think he was transporting a murder weapon. He intended to keep his plan quiet, to mourn with at least a bit of privacy. But he didn’t want them to get the wrong idea, either.

“I want to bring it to Kaede’s lab,” he explained.

That was all he could really say, because he didn’t know what else there was to. Gonta’s cloudy expression lifted. Shuichi had to focus on the ceiling behind Gonta, so he could ignore the pity which took its place.

“Oh, Gonta see.”

In a seamless motion, Gonta hoisted the keyboard so it was resting on his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time, outclassing Shuichi in every way imaginable. He followed, and took care to avoid being hit by the box on the off chance Gonta spun around.

They found a corner with an outlet, facing away from the grand piano. Gonta put the keyboard on its stand for him. Meanwhile, Shuichi was careful to flip through the instruction booklet, making sure that all the default settings were as they should be. There was a flimsy, collapsible bench in the box too, which partly explained its unreasonable weight. The keyboard may have been light, but the extra contents were not. Tricky marketing.

“Thank-you for helping me,” he said, not a little sheepish.

“You know how to play?”

“Ah,” he shook his head. “No. Nothing. Do you know?”

“Little bit. Musical theory important for gentleman. It teaches good posture.”

“It does?”

Gonta nodded, smiling gently.

“Here, Gonta show you proper way to sit at piano.”

Obediently, he went to the bench. Two hands pressed between his back and middle, forcing him to sit up straight.

“You gotta’ be more confident Shuichi. Don’t let your shoulders curl in.”

By example, Gonta puffed out his chest. Shuichi tried to emulate this, but wasn’t certain about the success of the results.

“It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,” he added. “You want to be formal, but relaxed, able to breathe.”

He rolled his shoulders back, nodding in understanding. It still hurt a little, but with some calming breaths, the pain turned bearable.

“This better?”

“Sorta’. But keep practicing. It vital part to playing instrument.”

Shuichi rehearsed posture with Gonta, until they were both satisfied that he would hold himself properly.

“Shuichi, Gonta wonder, why you no use the piano there?” Gonta asked.

“It,” he looked towards the grand piano. “It would just feel wrong. It’s meant for an ultimate, not someone like me.”

Someone who still _really_ didn’t know what they were doing.

“Maybe if you practice, you feel worthy of it one day.”

Was that the idea which had caused him to bring the keyboard here?

He stared down at the keyboard. Its keys gleamed, a faint smell of plastic rising from them. They were not off-white, like the true piano in the center stage. He could recognize the cheapness of the keyboard more clearly, with the grand piano for comparison. It wasn’t for scales and half-presses of notes. It deserved more than that. He would have to learn, before he could touch it.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

**_La romance d'Ariel_ **

“Hey!”

A strong hand settled on his shoulder, halting Shuichi in his tracks. He nearly dropped the music books (he had to search the warehouse for ones which were beginner-level) bundled in his arms.

“A-ah! Um, Tenko?”

His (hopefully) winning smile did little to calm her nerves. She regarded him with narrowed eyes, a slight bit more suspicion than usual.

“What are you going to Kaede’s lab for? Do you plan on doing _weird_ stuff there? You were, weren’t you?”

“What? No,” Shuichi loosely shook away her hand. “You can come and see if you want.”

“Hah!” Tenko matched his stride, and stayed a safe distance from him. “As if I’d let you go there without a guard to prevent whatever degenerate plan you have for that lab!”

They entered the lab together. Tenko nimbly stepped between the sheet music on the floor, while he walked around the edges, to where the keyboard was set up. The bench was hollow, and lifting the seat of it gave room to store the books he had brought along.

“I thought I’d learn a bit,” he said. “Just so ah, I don’t know.”

She bobbed her head in understanding. Internally, he sighed with relief, glad that she was calm. It reduced the chances of her trying to neo-aikido-chop the keyboard (or maybe his spine) in half.

“Kaede mentioned that music can convey emotion, and that when she played-” then he stopped, because it probably sounded dumb coming from him. He didn’t have the same passion she did when explaining, his words were artificial by comparison. “Maybe it can help.”

Despite how silly he felt, Tenko smiled- at him? No, it must have been Kaede’s feelings- almost gently.

“She was right about that. Conveying of emotion is an important tenant, not just of life, but of neo-aikido!”

 _“Shouldn’t that last part have been the other way around?”_ Shuichi wondered.

“Music is just one of many channels in which you can express yourself, being an offshoot of sound!”

“Ah, sound?” he brought a hand to his mouth. “Like when you yell before making a strike?”

“Exactly! HiiiIIIYAH!

Again, Shuichi worried that she might break something in the music room. It was almost a relief that he was flipped to the ground. Almost. Shuichi looked at the ceiling. Stars exploded and danced across his vision, merging with Tenko’s concentrated face.

“What were you trying to express there?” he dazedly asked, sitting up.

“You couldn’t tell? You need to do some ear training then!” Tenko grabbed his arm again. “Here, try to understand what I convey this time!”

“NO! That’s fine!”

With strength Shuichi didn’t know he had, he slipped out of Tenko’s hold, and put some distance between them. He was closer to the door, and would at least have a running start if she tried anything.

“I see. This is the sort of training where you must learn on your own, and _then_ challenge the master.”

_“Way to incentivize not learning.”_

“Shuichi!”

He straightened his posture to attention, as if Tenko had known exactly what he was thinking.

“Y-yes?”

“Learn how to build your strength, so that you will carry no fear when striking out against the opponent! When you come back to face me, we will both see how far you have progressed.”

“Ok, I’ll be sure to do that.”

They stayed in the lab for a bit longer. Tenko showed him stretches to do for his wrists, so he would not damage them. She also talked about the proper breathing exercises, which were essential to expression of any kind. He had his doubts about how necessary they were, but still wondered if building up his embouchure wasn’t a bad idea. The theory books had said natural breathing was key to fluid playing.

Maybe Tenko’s advice wouldn’t hurt.

**_Oh! quand la mort que rien ne saurait apaiser_ **

Shuichi flipped between the instruction manual and the many buttons of the keyboard, trying to change the tempo of the metronome. He had progressed from single notes on a line, to songs where timing mattered, to a grand staff. The steady ticking- a mallet striking against something wooden- flowed through the room. After a few wrong inputs, the pace picked up.

“You’re backtracking.”

Shuichi hadn’t heard Ryoma enter, not over the infuriating beats of the metronome. Alarmed, he swung his head, trying to see where he was. It made him shiver, not realizing that someone had snuck up behind him like that. In his carelessness, it just as easily could have been… No, he shouldn’t have been thinking of those types of things.

 _“Besides,”_ a more cynical part of his mind said. _“We haven’t been given a new motive yet.”_

Ryoma was perched on one of the benches surrounding the grand piano, facing him. His fingers were laced together, and his cigarette clamped tightly between his teeth. He was hunched forwards, starring with strange intensity.

“I’m learning, so it still sounds a bit bad.”

As if the example was necessary, he played a scale. It was choppy, uneven in places, which was why he needed the metronome. When it descended, his fingers began to slip, made clumsy with sweat and embarrassment.

“You’re unlearning.”

“How can I be unlearning when I didn’t know anything?"

Ryoma began to tap fingers on his knees, mimicking.

“Submerging yourself in her things, if you can even call this room that, isn’t going to help you at all. Not if you want to move on. Your face already seems less reliable than the last time we hung out.”

Instantly, he hopped on the defensive.

“It’s-”

“Something you’re going to carry with you for the rest of your life, I know.”

That made him close his mouth, and rethink what he was going to say next.

“I don’t… I don’t want vengeance to be the sole thing that defines my connection to Kaede.”

“Isn’t that what your promise to be self-assured and survive this is for?”

“This is different.”

“Well if you want my opinion, this is just gonna’ set you back. And even now, you’ve still got a way’s to go.”

“You’ve got that wrong.”

But Shuichi didn’t elaborate, because it wasn’t logic which had led him to that deduction.

“Hmph,” he grumbled, biting hard on his cigarette. “Well, that’s just my opinion, anyway. We’ll see who’s right in the end.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ryoma got up and stalked out of the lab.

_“Ryoma…”_

Was that jealousy, just then?

**_Tragédie: Les petites fleurs n'ont pu vivre_ **

In some abstract way, he had known that Kirumi was taking care of the lab. The blinds were drawn if he went in the morning. Musical scores had been moved away from the yellowing powers of the not-quite-sun. New pieces of chalk, perfect cylinders, were added to the board when the ones he used ran short and crumbled. Shuichi could have insisted that she didn’t need to do this, but that never would have stopped her. She did the same with their dorms, and other spaces around the school. Knowing he couldn’t stop her, Shuichi was mindful to not leaving any mess for her to clean.

He was not expecting to find Kirumi there midday. Shuichi turned with the slight creak of the door, not liking the idea of being caught unawares. Kirumi had a tray, balancing something he could not see from his vantage near the floor.

“Hey Kirumi. What are you doing here?”

Kirumi swept into a curtsey, never spilling what he now saw was a plate of neatly stacked sandwiches.

“When you didn’t show up for dinner, Kaito insisted that something be brought to you. He also told me to remind you not to forget training.”

_“Dinner? Already? But wasn’t it just before lunchtime?”_

A glance to the window proved that it was not the time he thought it was. He was having trouble with the newest song, because his fingers were not flexible enough to stretch for some of the high notes. It was frustrating, because he had the other parts down, but his hands just couldn’t go _one_ key higher.

“I guess I became so bent on figuring out this song I lost track of the time,” he said.

She presented him with the plate, and then some wipes, so he would not have to leave to wash. Curiously, he inspected the inside of a triangle-sliced quarter, wondering what Kaito had suggested Kirumi make for him. All he saw was melted cheese, orange strings dripping from the corners of the bread.

“Grilled cheese,” she answered for him.

 _“Because the moon was made of cheese,”_ Shuichi grinned a bit at the silly idea, wondering if that had been Kaito’s intention. Given that the presentation of the other triangles made a star, he felt like it was.

“Kirumi, thank-you, this is excellent.”

“It was my pleasure.”

He paused mid-bite, realizing something.

“Have you taken a break yet?”

“Thank-you for your concern, but I have eaten with the others.”

Kirumi began to do her rounds of the room, first wiping down the chalkboard.

“Ok,” he nodded, still feeling a bit awkward.

Though Shuichi had only just noticed the hunger in his stomach, the sandwiches really were excellent. He had become so caught up in practice, taking a rest now felt even better. And he still had training to go, after this.

 _“I should probably call it in for today,”_ he decided.

Shuichi wondered if he should be bothered by the forgetfulness which had overtaken him. Was that merely the trance of music, or had there been a sliver of truth in what Ryoma told him? He was hung up on a single key, something his hands might never reach because of their size. Shuichi thought more about his problem as he finished off the sandwiches. He cleaned his hands of crumbs and butter once he was done (bringing the wipes had been thoughtful of her) and set the plate aside.

“Kirumi, could you help me with something for a sec?”

“Of course.”

She finished with polishing the grand piano’s lid, and then joined him at the keyboard.

“What is it that you need?”

He thought of checking to see if she knew musical theory first, but assumed that would be more of an insult. Instead, Shuichi pointed to the bar which had been causing him so much trouble.

“Could you play the high E sharp there for me? I can never reach it without breaking the flow of the song.”

“Naturally.”

Kirumi stood behind the bench while he sat down. She kept her gloved hand poised above the black key, in a way that somehow contained more sophistication than the rest of his body. Together, they ran through the song, with Kirumi performing the one part needed of her. When they reached the end, Shuichi threw up his arms and sighed in relief.

“Thank-you! That was really going to bother me otherwise.”

“I was happy to be of assistance.”

**_Aimons-nous et dormons_ **

Kiyo approached him after they had explored further in the school, uncovering more of the ultimate labs. Shuichi was still mentally exhausted, he had not even considered returning to practice. If anything, he would have preferred to hang around with someone in his free time. Perhaps with Angie, or Kaito, if he ever gave up on bothering Maki.

“Shuichi, I would like to make a request of you.”

“Uh, um, sure thing. What is it?”

“I would like to observe your piano practice.”

“Really? I mean, I’m not all that good. I can’t play anything too advanced.”

“No worries,” he waved a hand with regal grace. “Would now work for you?”

Not wanting to be impolite, Shuichi accepted. They went to the lab in relative silence. Chalk markings were still scuffed on the board, and the teeth of the piano seemed less bright than they usually were. Shuichi didn’t know why, but he felt like apologizing for the mess, even though there wasn’t one. Not really.

Kiyo circled around the piano appraisingly, and then came to a stop near the keyboard.

“You work with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, because-”

“I understand. You wouldn’t give a child fine ink and the set of brushes for a master calligrapher.”

Shuichi blushed at the idea of being compared to a child.

“This piano, you may not realize from its immediate appearance, but it’s actually quite valuable.”

“Is it? I know that they cost a lot.”

Kiyo stepped up to the platform, Shuichi followed to see what he gestured to.

“Notice how the white keys have a grain to them? They’re ivory. Given that it’s quite difficult, if not illegal, to procure enough for a piano now, speaks volumes about it. This type of production has largely died out, and modern pianos use a plastic material known as _ivorite."_

“I never even considered the age of the piano. It’s so well-kept I just assumed it was new.”

“New?” Kiyo scoffed. “This dates back a hundred years at least.”

“A-a hundred?!”

Though he could not see, Shuichi imagined that Kiyo was grinning broadly under his mask.

“So, you see, it is a good thing you began with the keyboard,” Kiyo crossed his arms, squeezing his shoulders in a hug. “Now when the time comes, you will be able to respect its true beauty.”

“Would you be interested in observing that too?

Kiyo’s eyes widened, prickles of sweat breaking out against his forehead. For a moment, Shuichi thought that might have been the wrong thing to say. Piano, like anything, took time to improve in. Wasn’t it pessimistic of him then, to assume that he would be trapped long enough to use the grand piano here? But he still wanted to teach himself, as if in some way it could help him mourn.

“I would,” Kiyo paused, words strangled. “I would immensely appreciate that opportunity.”

“Then it’s settled. But for now, you’ll just have to deal with my poor playing.”

Feeling less weary than when he was first asked, Shuichi began to practice.

**_Pour un tombeau sans nom_ **

“Hey, hey, it’s getting awfully close to nighttime you know.”

A head of snowy hair poked through the threshold. Angie stared at him unblinkingly, waiting for his excuse. Shuichi decided it was safer to go along with her, and not invoke the wrath of the student council. If he argued now, and snuck out to meet Kaito later, there could be harsher consequences.

“Ah, sorry, just one last time and then I’m done.”

Shuichi repeated the song with haste, fingers tripping over each other and pressing notes too soon. It was messy. But, when he turned to look back, Angie stood fully in the room.

“I recognize that song,” Angie said, beaming. “It’s good that you’re learning the hymns of Atua! He will be pleased with this, Shuichi.”

_“Hymn? All I did was a cool-down song. One which I’m pretty sure isn’t religious.”_

“H-he ah, he will?”

Angie clasped her hands together, delighted.

“Yes, yes! He says you should play again, and sing along this time!”

“I uh, I don’t know about that Angie. I’m not really a good singer. But maybe you could instead?”

“O-kay!”

Shuichi brushed the sweat from his palms, and then felt his wrists, trying to loosen some of the ache which had settled into them. He fixed his back and relaxed his hands over the keys. He cast a glance at Angie, who nodded. Shuichi set the metronome, so they could count themselves into the song. He began the leading notes, and she dovetailed in. Her voice was sweet, the lyrics on her tongue foreign-sounding. Angie had no trouble in letting her voice climb and descend with the melody’s flow. Angie swayed, like the waves of notes, pushed by a strange tide. She could stretch notes when his determination faltered, or he fell nanoseconds short of a beat.

It made Shuichi realize how involved a duet was. The musicians did not just memorize their parts and play at the same time. It was more of a team effort, and there was a need to carry each other to prevent disharmony. To keep an ear out for the other musician, and adjust one’s own role based upon that, was the true skill. It was about complementation, not overwhelming each other.

Angie’s singing came to a lull, and he followed the decrescendo to match. Angie opened her eyes, the trance-like glaze had not faded from them.

“Your singing is very good,” he said, wondering if it would draw her back to reality.

“Hmhm. We all get a lot of practice, I lead the others in song.”

“Were you singing in uh, your local dialect?”

Angie had always spoken with an accent he couldn’t place. Shuichi wasn’t sure if the people of her island had their own language, or a local variant he had just never heard of before. Some of the lyrics had been understandable to him, but that didn’t guarantee anything.  

“Oh yes, it’s an essential song to honour the dead with. We sing it at _all_ the funerals!”

_“Funerals? But it had sounded so upbeat!”_

A weird sort of chill swept through him, leaving his fingertips buzzing and stomach twisted. It really had been a peppy song, Shuichi couldn’t imagine it being sung at anyone’s shrine.

“Ah, you see?” Angie asked when he shivered. “You can feel Atua now, thanking you.”

If that was Atua’s way of thanking him, then he would avoid playing the song again.  

**_Diane au bois_ **

Shuichi was honestly surprised that Miu hadn’t harassed him earlier. The others seemed to know that he visited Kaede’s lab from time to time. It was when they were hanging out together in the computer room that she finally brought up the topic. After being heckled about what felt like everything under the sun, Miu finally asked, “Are you still going to your girlfriend’s lab and crying over the piano or what?”

“I’m not doing that.”

Even though everyone knew where he went, Shuichi found himself explaining the situation multiple times.

“Oh!” Miu grinned slyly at him. “I see, you just go there to-”

He didn’t even want to hear what lewd suggestion Miu was going to make. Shuichi blocked it out, staring at the thick computer wires with feigned interest. His deadpan expression must have gotten to her, because Miu recoiled.

“Yeesh! N-no need to look so grumpy! Can’t you take a joke?”

“I just go there to play keyboard when I don’t feel like hanging out with anybody.”

“Tch, sounds pretty sketchy to me.”

“We can go down and see if you want.”

“Yeah, alright,” Miu gave one of the computer towers a sullen kick. “I guess I’m done with the percussive maintenance with these things anyway.”

Though Shuichi thought the keyboard was simple (at least, once he learned all there was in the instruction booklet) Miu still took interest in it. She plopped down on the bench and tapped out a few, meaningless notes. Then she cycled through some of the settings, seeing what sounds there were to offer.  

“Man, this thing only has fifty different sound fonts in its memory? Lame!”

“Isn’t fifty a lot? And I mean, I only use the basic piano setting.”

“That’s like asking if one hundred channels is better than unlimited Xilften and Chill!”

“What’s the difference if you don’t use it?”

“It’s not even worth explaining to a brick wall like you. Anyway, are there some auto-recorded songs in here yet?”

“I haven’t used the recording function.”

“Oooh my _gaaawd,”_ Miu dragged hands across her face, stretching her cheeks and rolling her eyes. “What’s even the point then? What are you using this for?”

“To play, _piano?”_

“That’s the single-most stupid thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll fix up this cheap hunk of plastic so it’s worth twice as much as it is now!”

“Zero times two is still zero.”

Miu slapped him on the back, cackling at his weak joke.

“Ahaha! You just leave it to me! I’ll mod the heck out of this!”

So he watched Miu instead of practicing that day. It was nice to take a break, his wrists  appreciated the rest they got. She still sent him on fetch-quests, to get various things from her lab, but the process was interesting to watch. Miu’s hands were deft, they knew what to do automatically. And when she worked, she didn’t have as much time to be crass. Her attention went solely to the project she was working on. That meant Shuichi’s ears got a break as well, which truly was a relief.

The number of sounds Miu uploaded was in a word, amazing. First came an entire orchestra of instruments, string, percussion, brass, even a choir. Following that were the more unorthodox options. Blood-curdling screams, guns firing, rain, glass breaking, the wind howling. It was staggering, and they had fun, cycling through the options. She even created a new function to the recording, so that multiple tracks could play at the same time, like a duet.

“You wanna’ record your own effect?” Miu asked, taking out a microphone. “Maybe make your own song?”

“We can do that?”

“Yup!” she preened under his excitement, and then plugged the mic into the headphone jack. “What should we do? Something filthy enough to cause a nun to stroke out?”

“That’s… weirdly specific. But you know what _would_ be a fun idea?”

As he explained, Miu’s grin widened. Shuichi knew then and there that Miu was rubbing off on him. The feeling when he laid out the plan was almost mischievous. The idea he had wasn’t much better.

“You get the amps from the warehouse and place them around the courtyard. I’ll hook up this baby to the speaker system."

“Monokuma’s Death By Bear Trap,” the Super High School Level Fucking Pissed Off’s only song before their tragic breakup, was a one-hit wonder amongst their fellow students. The guitar riffs and screamo sound font guaranteed its sucess. Unfortunately, it also resulted in a new school rule.

_Only the headmaster is allowed to blast annoying songs for an hour straight over the school’s communication system._

**_Fut-il jamais douceur de cœur pareille?_ **

There was a polite knock at the door. It was strange, because most of the group had taken to barging in when it suited them.

“Come in!”

Keebo entered, standing awkwardly in the threshold.

“Shuichi, may I have a word?”

“Keebo, if this is about the robophobic slurs in the song, Miu was the one to write the lyrics.”

Everyone chose to act as if The Incident had never occurred, but no one had looked at him the same since.

“Ah yes, I see,” though Keebo still appeared displeased. “This isn’t about that, however. It seems like practically everyone has seen you preform, and I am interested in doing so as well.”

“Oh yeah, take a seat.”

Shuichi went through what had become a routine for him, working his path deeper into the latest music book. The coordination of his hands was picking up. They could perform different tasks simultaneously. But they never lacked a certain clumsiness. After he had finished for the day, Keebo stood up, and clapped for him. Shuichi blushed under the praise.

“It was only practice.”

“Your dexterity is enviable.”

_“Yeah, I suppose there are limits to Keebo’s movements as well. I wonder if he can play?”_

“I can a little,” he answered. Keebo looked to his palm, a wistful grin twitching at his mouth. “But it is greatly, lacking.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Shuichi, have you have heard the difference between an actual recording of a piano, and a midi? One lacks...”

 _Emotion._ The ability to express feelings when playing, the thing Kaede had praised. Midi barely sounded like piano, it was an imitation even when compared to the keyboard.

But Shuichi didn’t say any of that.

They knew his logic had shown him the answer, anyway.

“Maybe you can-” Shuichi stopped, because he did not have a suggestion to give.

“No, it’s, fine.”

_“Keebo…”_

Keebo got up, standing heavily on his feet.

“Thank-you for allowing me to watch, Shuichi.”

**_Images oubliées_ **

Tsumugi revealed that she knew some basic piano. She had posed as characters who played, and thus had done some shoots where she posed at a piano. To appear more natural, she picked up some of the etiquette. They were sitting together on the bench, pressing whatever strains of music came to mind, and chatting. The novelty of the sound effects had worn out some, because it served as a grim reminder about-

“Huh, it’s mute,” Tsumugi remarked.

Sure enough, she tapped her nail against the highest key, but no sound emitted. Shuichi remembered how Gonta had sat down with him at one point, and heavily pressed the keys by example. Tenko had used her neo-aikido to hit some of the keys as well, right in the same place. When composing the song, Miu had favoured high C a lot, because it sounded the closest to Monokuma screaming in pain.

“Maybe we should try some percussive maintenance?”

His joke fell flat. Tsumugi just stared at him with strange coldness in her eyes.

_“Well I thought it was a good joke.”_

“Doesn’t that just mean hitting something until it works?”

“Yeah.”

The key stuck after she held it down a moment. Tsumugi had to pull it up with both hands.

“I think too much hitting was the problem in this case. It looks like we’ll just have to leave it for now.”

Tsumugi frowned, probably blaming herself for what had happened. Wanting to cheer her up, Shuichi said, “Don’t worry, fifty-one white keys is just as good as fifty-two or fifty-three. It’s not like I use a lot of them anyway.”

A smile returned to her face, but it was not the soft, almost shy one Tsumugi had worn before. She started to giggle, holding her sides. Shuichi vainly tried to laugh along, but it felt strange.

 _“I didn’t say anything_ **_that_ ** _funny.”_

**_Sérénade pour la poupée_ **

“So, the rumours are true.”

Shuichi was in the warehouse. He needed the next level of books. Rather than being in Kaede’s lab (and why would she ever need them?) they seemed to be kept in storage. He was just going through a bin of textbooks when the tiny voice sounded behind him. When Shuichi looked towards her, he was surprised to see that Himiko had a mat. It was rolled up and sitting on her shoulder. Shuichi thought that it would have been too heavy for her, and more work than she was interested in doing for a single day.

“What rumours?” he settled for asking.

“You’re in training as well,” she nodded, as if pleased with her own deduction.

“Yeah, I guess training would be an accurate term. Are you doing that too?”

“Huh?”

He looked pointedly to the tatami mat.

“It’s to help prepare for my next feat of magic,” she said, averting her gaze. “What are you doing with those curse books?”

“Curse books? These are just music ones.”

“Just music books?” she asked, skeptically. “You can’t fool me! I know you’re training to be a bard!”

“Who said _that?”_ Shuichi replied, before his tone darkened. “Or am I asking a stupid question?”

Himiko looked close to curious when he said this.

“What kind of effect are you going to inflict on Kokichi with your bard-ly powers? We can channel it together, and make him do the chicken dance with his shoelaces tied up.”

Shuichi didn’t know what to make of this offer.

“I don’t think Kokichi actually has shoelaces.”

“I’ll transform them into bowling shoes while you cast the dancing spell,” Himiko suggested.

“Maybe later,” he said. “What are you doing to train right now?”

For the rest of their time in the warehouse, they talked about how they were training. They discussed vocal exercises, which had been taught to them by the same person. It was a way to express the most powerful of feelings. Himiko gave such a yell that shelves rattled, and they experienced an avalanche of knickknacks.

Thinking quickly, Shuichi snatched the mat from Himiko and unfurled it. He held it protectively over their heads, until things stopped falling.

“That was my supersonic magic at work,” Himiko said, not remotely shaken.

And it was.

**_La danse de Puck_ **

Shuichi knew what was coming, spotting it from the corner of his eye. Once the others learned where he spent time alone, he figured someone would try to take advantage. A streak of purple rose up and dashed towards him. He predicted that Kokichi would be less direct than this, that it would be poison, or a push down the manhole causing his... Without a detective, he supposed the method didn’t matter as much.

Instead of a knife in the back, Kokichi splayed his fingers. He pressed down on the keyboard, leaning with all his weight. Shuichi jumped involuntarily at the sound, his practice jarring to a halt.

“You’re actually keeping this up? Don’t you have better things to do with your time?”

_“You’re the one startling people for no reason.”_

Instead of snapping that, he pushed Kokichi’s hands away from the keys. The cacophony of notes faded out. Shuichi resumed, it gave him something to concentrate on. Unbothered by the cold welcome, Kokichi began to poke random keys, making a reel of sour melodies.

“Don’t you think it’s irresponsible follow a pattern of coming to a secluded space?”

“Not really.”

He thought of elaborating for Kokichi, of explaining how the others stopped by. Some of them had expressed the same worries, wanted to check up on him. Truly, he had never been left in isolation. Someone was bound to come, they all were. Kokichi was just late to the party.

“I guess that means you’ve prepared,” Kokichi pulled clownish face. “What is it? A knife stored in the bench? Maybe the music stand is heavy enough to use as a bludgeon and you’ve been training with it.”

He began to copy what Shuichi was playing, always lagging one note behind, and an octave lower.

“If I’d done either of those things, you would have known.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he grew serious again. “But then, that really is irresponsible. We wouldn’t have a detective to lead us through the trial.”

“It would be just as bad if you had me, and I was covering up murder in self-defence.”

He laughed at the notion.

“Then I’d just see through your perjury!”

_“And you could do the same with any other culprit.”_

The conversation would become circular if he said that, so he remained silent.

Kokichi performed one final _glissando_ , drawing his thumb across the entire length of the keyboard. He turned away to leave, but Shuichi knew that wasn’t his style. He waited, watching from a reflection in the window, to see what he would do.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice soft.

Kokichi froze, hands poised above the grand piano.

“Why? What’s wrong with-”

Shuichi was out of his seat and halfway towards Kokichi before he could move again.

“DON’T YOU DARE-!”

Immediately, he leapt off the platform, with his hands safely tucked behind his head.

“Wow, taking up piano really _did_ make you more assertive. Who would’ve thought?”

Kokichi smiled winningly and left, the whole event already behind him.

**_Ballade à la lune_ **

“Shuichi,” Maki said, by way of greeting.

Shuichi was proud to say that he didn’t even want to scream when Maki snuck up behind him. That might have had more to do with exhaustion, than his strength. His nerves were frayed to the ends, but even after...

He couldn’t go back to his room, because he knew all night there would be phantom knocks at the door, as he was asked to go train. The world lurched for a moment, song wavering. An oppressive quiet had settled, something his haphazard music couldn’t conceal.

Maki calmly sat on a stool, with her hands resting on her knees. How long had she been there for? Did it really matter?

“What are you doing here Maki?”

“I was wondering if I could join you for today.”

“O-oh, yeah, of course!”

He slid over, making room for her to sit on the bench.

“What will we do first?” Maki asked, smoothing out her skirt.

“What do you know about the piano?”

“I can read sheet music,” Maki tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We all learned it in school.”

“Ok, we’ll start with finger positions then. Or, no, maybe we should start with posture first-”

Looking at how Maki carried herself, Shuichi realized that wasn’t a problem, not even in her weariest hour.

“Finger positions,” he reaffirmed.

He showed Maki which fingers corresponded with which keys. Her reflexes were quick to commit this to memory. She could play whatever note he said, before he could even fully pronounce the letter. Speed, however, wasn’t everything. There were timings and rests to consider, notes which needed to be held at different lengths. This was where they spent their time practicing.

Teaching another person was different from teaching himself with books alone. Explaining became an interesting challenge, as he strained to think of ways to do so clearly. But Maki was a good sport, patient and interested in learning.  

“Do you know why you began to play now?” Maki asked, when their hands were trembling too much to go on.

Her nails clicked against the plastic, as she mimed holding them for the correct beats.

“I really wanted to get to know Kaede better, after we got out,” he sighed, pulling away from the keyboard. “If I understood something she loved, I would know her too.”

Maki tugged at the bow of her uniform, suddenly pensive.

“Has it worked? Do you think-?”

_Do you think I could do the same thing for Kaito?_

**_Nuits d'étoile_ **

“Hey Shuichi, you’re back here again?” Kaito asked. “It’s getting late you know, almost time for our training.”

“K-Kaito! I was just about to leave for the courtyard.”

“No need to make excuses,” Kaito waved a flippant hand. “Finish up whatever you were working on last and then we can go.”

Kaito nudged him to the side, so he could sit on the piano bench as well. It creaked a bit under their combined weight. Even with their legs pressed close together, there was little room. Shuichi could feel the heat on his face rise, coating the tips of his ears in red. It was harder to concentrate, with Kaito filling most of the space.

“It’s nothing too exciting. J-just a simplified version of a classical song-”

“Let’s hear it.”

Encouraged by his smile, Shuichi began.

High, warbling notes came first. They looped together hypnotically, present throughout the entirety of the song. Sounds he could only describe as “sweet” floated above this, dreamlike. Were they calling to someone? He could not read the lyrics printed beneath the bar, they were in a language he didn’t recognize. But the sense of melancholy was there. He could feel it, when the melody shifted apart, separating.

White and black swirled a moment, the page obscured, and he couldn’t see the final bar anymore. Was he-? Shuichi wanted to swipe at them, so Kaito wouldn’t see. He would think they weren’t manly, it would be embarrassing. But he kept his hands firmly where they should have been, until the final strains of music died.

_“So that was what Kaede meant all along… I see now.”_

Which was funny, because he couldn’t see at all, with his eyes stinging like this.

“Whoa, dude!” Kaito breathed heavily, mesmerized. “It was like, stars.”

“Was it?” he asked, wondering if it was possible to blink away tears without drawing notice.

Kaito looked at the sheet music, giving him the chance.

 _“Nuits d’étoiles,”_ he read aloud, before translating, _“Starry Night._ Man, it really _was_ like stars.”

“Oh! I knew you’d studied multiple languages for astronaut training, but-“

“It’s the Canadians who got the _Canadarm_ up there, and astronauts in the ISS. They’ve got to know English and French at a minimum.”

“Do you know what the lyrics say then?”

“What do you want me to sing along? This says it’s for sopranos you know. But, if you insist.”

He hadn’t, but Shuichi didn’t mind. During his second playthrough, he and Kaito fought to read the sheet music at the same time. He “sung” in falsetto and batted his eyelashes, Shuichi couldn’t help but blush. This had them both laughing halfway through. Though he still felt a striking pain in his chest, it was more humorous this time. Only near the end, when the volume dimmed, did he appear almost serious.

“-Et ces étoiles sont tes yeux.”  

Whatever it meant, Kaito made it sound sincere. Then there was a pause, as they stared at each other, not quite knowing what to say. The waves of the song resonated around them.

“Do you think you could sing along in English this time?”

Kaito hurriedly glanced away.

“Tch, that wouldn’t even be a challenge,” he boasted. “Let’s do a different song. You got anything else with lyrics?”

Shuichi and Kaito found more. They played until Kaito propped his head on his wrist as he sung along, until his face was squished against the buttons. (This changed the settings so that Shuichi was playing in thunder strikes, but that didn’t make them less drowsy.) Shuichi’s arms began to fall slack, protesting the invisible weight that came with playing. His posture left with this too, until he was leaning. Shuichi thought of getting up, as cold plastic bit into his skin, but he was too tired.

“Hey Shuichi,” Kaito said, drawing his jacket across their backs.

“Yeah?”

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.”

He closed his eyes, thinking of stars, of all the friends who had been taken from them.

Kaito’s next words were less comforting.

“I think we were supposed to meet Maki Roll for training an hour ago.”

The wrath of Maki was so jarring that Shuichi woke up with a start. It was pitch black, he could barely see. Was he still at the keyboard bench? Was he even in the lab to begin with? His arms must have fallen asleep, he couldn’t feel his surroundings. There was no sign of Kaito, or the music they had read together.

And certainly not a coat around his shoulders.

_"Where am I? Had that been, real?"_

Then the word “real” reminded Shuichi of exactly where he was.

He knew the answer to that question, he just couldn't bring himself to think it. 

**_Fin_ **


End file.
